The Aftermath
by LautnerGrint
Summary: Hermione finally confronts Ron after their first kiss, however, not all initially goes well... Reviews would be great, thank you!


**Hermione finally confronts Ron after their first kiss, however, not all initially goes well... Reviews would be great, thank you! **

Hermione's POV 3rd person:

The coruscating sun, misted slightly by the unrelenting rain, flared through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the dust stirred by Hermione who sleepily climbed out of bed; as quietly as she could, she groggily pulled on her slippers and dressing gown. Her whole body ached from the aftermath of the war, five days ago, and she fought a small moan as she stretched her limbs, having had very little sleep. Glancing at Ginny - she had finally fallen asleep after hours of being comforted by Hermione - whose flaming red hair cascaded around her tear-stained face, Hermione crossed the room and padded downstairs for a glass of milk. It was still extremely early, however, Hermione no longer cared, for she - amongst the Weasley's and Harry - had been unable to sleep for more than an hour. Exhausted, heartbroken and frustrated, Hermione entered the little kitchen, carefully averting her eyes from the family clock on the wall as she poured herself a drink.

The cool liquid ran down her throat, momentarily relieving the pain she felt, temporarily numbing her mind from all the unapologetic intrusive thoughts.

The inconceivable events flashed through her mind, her thoughts like an endless whirlpool; repetitive; endless. Her heart broke every time she thought of the deaths.. Professor Lupin, Tonks, Dobby... Fred. No, Hermione couldn't allow herself to dwell on any of the deaths in that moment in time, although the grief she was experiencing was almost enveloping her. No, Hermione had decided to focus on a far more minor matter, a matter that she had pushed to the corners of her mind where it lurked, threatening to consume her daily, only to come out from it's hiding place every night. Minor though it was, the fact remained that she needed to confront this matter - send it to the front of her mind in order to solve it.

This matter was Ron.

She had kissed him. He had kissed her back.

And now, she had not spoken to him since the night of the war, where he had handed her a spare blanket and bid her goodnight as herself, Harry and the Weasley's had attempted to settle down and sleep. Yesterday, he had only appeared at meal times, no longer the Ron she remembered previously; the sparkle in his mesmerising blue eyes had diminished, the smile she always elicited from him was a shadow of it's former self; Ron was a broken man. This was understandable, of course, Hermione thought. He had just lost a brother. However, he had built a wall so powerfully strong, she could not break through - could not even comfort him. This fact hurt her most of all. She needed to talk to him, to know where she stood. Most of all, she wanted heal his scars, feel his presence that she had gotten so used to over the years.

Coming to a decision, Hermione walked out of the kitchen and made her way up to Rons' room. Something had to change.

Rons POV 1st person:

I lie there listening to the rain beating against my window, the sound reminding me of a thousand snitches soaring through the air. I haven't slept all night, I'm bloody exhausted, but I'd rather stay awake than face the horrors in my dreams. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the sounds of the battle; the screams, the bangs... I see Fred dying. Over and over again. I can't help but think it's all my fault.

It's my fault.

Just like that, tears begin to fall slowly along my unshaven face and I don't even try to stop them. I deserve the pain, wish it was me instead of Fred who was killed. Maybe things would have been better, because I can't even imagine what George is going through... Blimey, I can't imagine what mum's going through. I wonder then if I'm being selfish by staying out of everyone's way. Should I be there, trying to comfort everyone else, even though I can't comfort myself? I know it's no good hiding away from the grief, but I'm trying. I just feel hollow, broken, like a part of me has gone... I stir as I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, furiously wipe my tears off of my face and I turn, facing the wall, pretending to be asleep as my gaze fixes upon my Chudley Cannons poster. it's probably just mum bringing up some breakfast: My stomach rumbles at the thought.

The door slowly opens and I hear the creak of the floorboards as someone quietly enters. All is silent and I can only guess mum's checking whether I'm asleep. I realise it's not mum when the door clicks shut and the footsteps approach my bed, because I'd know that brilliant scent anywhere. She's wearing the perfume I brought her; this awakens unwanted butterflies in my stomach causing my heart to stutter. I inwardly sigh.

Hermione.

I feel her sit down on the bed, so close, and my breathing falters as she places a hand on my arm.

"Ron?" She asks tentatively. I try to keep my eyes closed and my breathing steady. Surely she, of all people, can realise I just want to be on my own? I'm a grumpy old git at the moment and I'm quite content with my own company. Please, Hermione, leave me be?

"Ronald Weasley!" Her voice is more forceful and I feel her lean in as she bends down towards me, trying to see my face. Damn it. "Come on, I know you're not asleep - you're not snoring like a troll." I can hear the smile in her voice at the attempt of some humour and I can't help but love her more for it, for not bringing up all of the things we've left unsaid. This is enough to make me drop my act, so I turn, only to be inches away from her face... Blimey, those lips... I instantly recall the feel of those soft lips on mine, five nights ago; the feel of Hermione throwing everything into that kiss in case it was the last time she ever could; the desperation from her lips had thrown me off balance and, almost as if we had planned it, my own desire and desperation mirrored hers. All of my feelings I had suppressed over the years rose to the surface.

Hermione gazes at me for a moment, seemingly transfixed, and it takes all of my resolve not to kiss her right there and then. I needed to focus, to remember what I had promised to myself - I wouldn't allow anything to happen. It can't happen. I'm too screwed up, I don't want to drag Hermione down with me, into the depths of my darkness. She slowly sits up with that same look on her face and this only chips away at the wall I've built.

"What do you want? Is it breakfast time?" At the very mention of breakfast, my stomach growls. I sit up and rub my eyes with the heel of my hand, fully aware that I probably look homeless.

"No, I - I wanted to talk.." Her voice is quiet, so un-Hermione-ish, and she just sits there staring at her hands as if trying to find the right words. She looks so small and tired, with her bed hair tumbling around her face, that for a split second, she reminds me of the scared girl Harry and I had saved in the girls bathroom.

I manage a grunt, "About what?" Don't say Fred.

Her chocolate brown eyes fill with tears as she meets mine. Oh no. Forgetting everything I had promised not to do, I begin to reach for her hand but pull back instantly. I can't do this to her. She must have noticed my because a slight frown appears on her forehead and I just feel like rubbing my finger across the line to smooth it away, but I quickly suppress this thought too.

"About you, Ron. You've been hiding away, you won't let anyone comfort you and, honestly, it's wrong of you to shut us out. I hate seeing you like this."

"Hermione, please just go-" I attempt to convince her to leave, to see sense, that I'm not worth it. But Hermione being Hermione cuts me off, unwilling to give up.

"No, just listen. You're upset, I get it, but don't go pushing us all away now, Ronald. Don't push me away. I can help, just talk to me?" She stares at me intensely as if gouging my reaction, but all I can think is that I want her to leave; I don't want her to get through the wall I had built for myself, because what's on the other side is full of hatred and anger. This anger begins to bubble inside of me - I jump up off the bed and turn my back on her, walking a few paces forwards trying to think of something coherent. The bed squeaks as she rises and I feel her fingers entwine in mine, eliciting my spine to tingle. Oh, how I've missed her these past 5 days. If only things were different.

"It's all my fault, Hermione. That Fred's dead. And this-" I turn around and look down at our hands,"- this can't happen. It just can't. Don't you understand? I'm trying to protect you."

"Don't." She whispers, just one word:

With this, she just looks at me, her eyes fixed on mine; now, if the holding hands got to me, then this was another story entirely.

I know I have to tell her my exact thoughts. Bloody hell, I'm rubbish with words: I have to tell her I just can't let myself. Not yet.

"Hermione..." Oh, Merlin's beard, a note of pleading edges into my voice.. "There is no us, there can't be." I shift my gaze downwards because I can see the pain in her eyes at my words. "I just feel angry all of the time. I'm not me right now, I'm some nutter and I - Um, who knows? Maybe in the future..." I trail off awkwardly, feeling like the worst person in the world.

"Don't you even dare, Ron. I won't have it. Fred's death was not your fault. And you know we'd make sense. You're wounded, but you'll get through this, I can help you." She grabs my wrist with desperation but instantly pulls away. I feel my ears tinge red at the contact - I simply say:

"I'm sorry." She's silent, her eyes like a window to her soul so all I can see is her pain mixed with all of her other conflicting emotions. She hesitantly stretches out her hand and, as if in slow motion, she strokes my face; her fingers grazing over the stubble dusted along my jaw line. Her loaded gaze instantly falls to my lips and for the life of me, I can't even control what I do next.

Her uncharacteristic silence throws me off balance completely, my resolve shatters and the wall tumbles down into a hundred pieces. My anger evaporates, my grief pushed to the back of my mind, only to be replaced with something else - my mind goes blank and at once, all I can think about is our kiss.

I should walk away. Leave it be. Keep the promise I made to myself and not break it. But I don't. I can't.

Something overrides my endless repetitive negative thoughts, my doubts - completely over takes my body and I find myself swiftly bending down and pressing my lips softly against hers, a raging fire of emotions burning inside of me. At first Hermione is tense with shock, but then I feel her body melt into mine as her arms wrap around my neck, one hand placed against my neck and the other tangled into my untidy hair. I can't help but smile against her lips; only Hermione could have pulled me out of the darkness. I feel her smile back;

The rain violently pounds against the windows, but I feel our body heat mix as I finally wrap my arms around Hermione's waist, giving in entirely, and pull her up against me; a sensation soars through my very veins as our lips part against eachother with furious, undeniable longing.

I deepen the kiss when Hermione gently tugs at my hair with encouragement, my fingers fisting the material at the base of her back as I throw all of my emotions into the kiss. My heart beat accelerates.

**So I hope this is a good little one-shot, I wanted a bit of romance but I also wanted to convey that it couldn't have been easy for Ron when letting her in; I hope the characterisation - although tweaked a little bit to go with the plot - is accurate and I hope **


End file.
